Fragile
by wild-springflower
Summary: One hit. That was all it had taken to send Jim to the ground. -In the aftermath of yet another away mission turned deadly, Spock contemplates the fragility of the human body.


**A/N: Hello all! I don't really have much to say except this is what comes of sleep deprivation. Honestly, it's a disease! This takes place after Into Darkness. And last, according to a website that I can't remember the name of, a Class L planet is one that has no animal life, only vegetation but is marginally habitable. This will be important later!**

 **I own nothing! Please enjoy!**

Things had been going well. Which, in retrospect, should have been their first clue that things were going to very quickly head downhill. Things _never_ went well on away missions.

Spock wasn't entirely certain how it had happened- a fact he was most frustrated with. Once minute he and the Captain had been walking through the jungle of a Class L planet peacefully, their only hindrance appearing in the form of snagged limbs against resilient vines. The next minute camouflaged natives were bursting from the dense foliage on all sides, effectively trapping the duo in a small, and still shrinking, circle.

Kirk's first instinct had been to fight his way free. Whether the natives had originally intended for their ambush to become a violent attack was a fact Spock would never find out. As Jim raised his fists in a defensive position, the mass of aliens surged forward and the pair was quickly thrust into a fight for survival.

Spock had been fairing pretty well, he could feel the warm trickle of blood from where his lip had split open and was aware of a vast array of bruises that would undoubtedly be peppering his body, but the alien race, armed only with their hands and feet, were unsurprisingly weak opponents. To a Vulcan at any rate. A glance over his shoulder had proven the Captain was not fairing as well as his First Officer.

While Jim was certainly fighting harder and stronger than most, his body was still subject to the physical limitations of a human being. Which was precisely the reason why, when the Captain received a particularly strong punch to the face, lost his balance and fell to the ground in an uncoordinated mass of limbs, Spock had already been on his way to the man's position.

Seeing as how their opponent had suddenly found themselves on the ground, the aliens wasted little time to resort to kicking any part of Jim's body they could. Spock had been forced to viciously tear the aliens away from his Captain, an almost feral snarl escaping past his carefully constructed mask of collectedness.

Finally the First Officer had half a second to reach for his phaser, wasting no time at all to trade his weapon in place of hand-to-hand combat. The aliens possessed no such technology and were quickly scared away by the foreign object that emitted blinding flashes of light that could fell one of their warriors upon contact.

It was only when Spock was certain the aliens no longer posed a threat that he bent down on one knee to assess the Captain's well-being.

"You know," the man in question groaned out, "I had those guys exactly where I wanted 'em."

"I am certain you did Captain. _Enterprise_ , two to beam out. Alert Doctor McCoy that we will require his expertise immediately."

"Are ye lads hurt?" Scotty's worried, accented voice filtered through Spock's comm and the First Officer noticed the hint of a smile ghost across Jim's bruised face.

"There has been a minor altercation Mr. Scott, our injuries are not too severe." The Vulcan extended a hand but the human batted it away, staggering to his feet unsteadily but unaided. "Captain, it would be wise for you to allow me to support some of your weight." Spock stated calmly as Jim's body swayed and pitched dangerously.

"I'm perfectly alright to stand on my own Spock, like you said, our injuries aren't severe."

Spock wisely chose to forego an argument seeing as how Jim would simply brush him off, vowing instead to keep a close eye on his Captain until he was resting safely in the confines of Sick Bay.

The familiar tingle of the transporter beam was the only warning the pair was granted as their cells were stripped apart then reconfigured on board the _Enterprise_.

"Class L my ass. Alert Star Fleet that there is a hostile race on that planet." Jim commanded, staggering off the transporter pad and towards the door.

He had made it approximately three steps before his legs gave out entirely and his body crashed toward the unforgiving floor.

Scotty released a loud curse and leapt from his seat but would not have been fast enough. Fortunately Spock had been expecting such a response and was able to catch the Captain in his strong arms, hoisting the man's dead weight effortlessly.

McCoy was understandably pissed when Spock entered his med bay carrying an unconscious Kirk.

"What the hell happened _this_ time?" He demanded in exasperation.

"Hostile race." Was the only explanation required.

"Just lay 'im there." McCoy indicated the nearest empty bed, then walked over, tricorder in hand. "Damn kid's black and blue all over. Looks like one managed to get their hands around his throat too."

Spock thought back to when he'd ripped the aliens away from his Captain. It was certainly possible that one of the natives had in fact been choking Jim, it was the only opportunity the aliens would've had, but he hadn't even stopped to determine how the aliens had been attacking Jim. All that had really registered was that Jim was in pain and they had been the ones causing it.

Ever since the incident with Kahn, Spock found he absolutely could not stand any harm to come to the Captain. It agitated a very primal, animalistic portion of his brain that he really had no control over. It should have been something he could easily reign in, but it wasn't, and that fact alone should have been enough to cause frustration.

It didn't.

Spock was snapped from his reverie by a pained groan from Jim as the wounded Captain groggily pried his open.

"Sp'k?"

"If you really think I look like that pointy-eared hobgoblin you sustained more brain damage that I initially thought."

"Wh'rs Spock?"

"I am here Captain." The First Officer took a step forward, assuming his normal position with his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

"You 'k?" It was obvious speaking took a considerable amount of effort.

"I am fine Captain. It is your health that is causing everyone concern."

"Told you, had 'em where I wan'ed 'em." Jim cracked a smile but it quickly morphed into a grimace. The laugh that had been on his lips a whimper.

Spock backed up a few paces to allow the Doctor room to work but did not leave Sick Bay entirely.

He should have been on the Bridge giving a report of the events that had transpired on the planet below them. Instead Spock found himself rooted to the spot, unable to remove his gaze from his wounded Captain as he contemplated the fragility of the human body.

One hit. That was all it had taken to send Jim to the ground. If one hit could do that, what would be the repercussions of two? Or three? When would Jim's human body receive such damage as to the point of irreparability?

It wasn't the Captain's fault, human bodies were simply weaker than a Vulcans. Much weaker than a lot of other races in fact, and that worried Spock greatly.

Sure he had been able to reach Jim in time that day, but what would happen when Spock was unable to get there in time? Or when Jim was alone?

The human body was fragile, complex and beautiful, but vulnerable. Much akin to a stained glass window. Under optimal conditions it was a sight like no other, but simply drop it and it would shatter. Spock had already witnessed as Jim shattered once and he knew he couldn't live through it a second time.

"Dammit Jim, sit back down you crazed buffoon!"

McCoy's enraged voice drew Spock's attention once again to the bed Jim was lying in, or more accurately, _supposed_ to be lying in. Spock couldn't help the tiny, fond smile that captured his lips as he observed his Captain attempting to fight off the Doctor whilst also balancing on still wobbly legs.

That was when he came to a conclusion. Humans were only similar to stained glass in their unique beauty. But humans had a resilience about them that the glass clearly lacked. While glass would shatter when dropped, a human would only chip, and a chip could easily be repaired. And so the human would bounce back, only slightly worse for wear.

Spock once again took a moment to observe his Captain. His bloodied face, the newly forming bruises only slightly obscured by clothing, the angry red hand print temporarily tattooed on the sensitive skin of his neck. And despite his obvious discomfort, Jim was still attempting to stand. Because he was tough. Because he was a brilliant stained glass work of art, embedded in a protective layer of iron will and determination.

Because he was human.

And it was with those comforting thoughts that Spock quietly excused himself to the Bridge, his fears abated and mind once again at ease.


End file.
